Chaldeapostings
by Toph the Trickster
Summary: Chaldea is a very colorful place filled with masters of different personalities and even more servants. This is the story of one master in that colorful universe that faces the coming end of the world. A tale told in snippets.
1. The Betrayer and the Betrayed - Part I

And this is Chaldeapostings, a collection of stories featuring the servants found in Fate Grand Order and what is essentially an SI OC master. Most of these stories are disconnected and distributed across the story as a whole.

Enjoy, and feel free to leave a review!

* * *

 **The Betrayer and the Betrayed**

 **Part I**

Explosions could be heard all across training halls, bullets creating craters in the concrete walls and floor.

A silver figure dashed forward with a cry, trying to bear her sword down on her opponent.

Her foe, a slight figure dressed in a dark, double-breasted coat, heavy pants that were tucked into golden greaves, and a read cloak that wrapped around her like a shroud, dodged the strike, almost floating to one side as a matchlock materialized in one of her hands while two more appeared behind her.

One shot fired. The armored warrior was moving and the bullet hit the ground behind her.

A second shot fired. The blade was barely fast enough to block the shot. A weaker blade might have shattered at the force behind it.

A third shot fired. This time connecting with the warrior's armored shoulder. It wasn't enough to stop anything, but it did make the fighter stagger.

The blade was brought in for a diagonal swing that should have cut the gunner from shoulder to hip had it connected. The blow was parried with the firearm in the other's hand, however, the swordsman made to overextend before the gun's stock clubbed against the side of their helmet.

Beneath the helmet, Mordred grit her teeth.

She quickly regained her footing, doing her best to ignore the ringing of her head from the blow, and struck out with her left fist while her right pulled Clarent back to her.

Her opponent was not easily caught off-guard. The tiny woman she was fighting replying with a jab to the gut using her firearm and a backward leap to disengage.

Taking Clarent in both hands, her gauntlets tightening around the dyed leather wraps of the hilt, she pulled her legs together and leapt over the hail of bullets that she knew her opponent had sent her way.

Red lightning began collecting in the blade, Mordred channeling her energy into the weapon. She was little more than a blur arcing over the battlefield towards her enemy.

Crimson eyes met green.

Smoke rose in clouds from the point of impact, lightning and light bursting from her blade and the ground it was thrust into. Mana permeated the air around them, and she felt a burning in her lungs she hadn't felt in a while.

The knight attempted to pull her blade from the ground when she felt something step on her wrist.

"Your attack was ineffective."

And then she the smoke was blown away and she saw the fifteen matchlocks arrayed before her.

This time, they fired a red beam and, this time, they _all_ connected.

The next time Mordred's senses returned to her, jagged metal was all she saw and she quickly struggled to remove the remnants of her helmet without cutting herself to shreds inside it, and tossed the piece of scrap to one side.

Her opponent was once again quite a distance away from her.

"It was, however, rather pretty."

Arms crossed, Nobunaga Oda looked at the knight with what appeared to be mild disapproval.

"You lack finesse and I can see your attacks a mile away." Oda was a small woman - at least she did a lot of her fighting in her small form the Commander told her. Her voice sounds about as old as she looked. "I strongly suggest you exercise some creativity especially when you stand to face an opponent that can strike you from a distance."

The old warlord might have tried to phrase it politely, but she understood what was meant. Mordred grit her teeth at the reprimand.

"Closing the gap quickly is good enough." She replied.

Oda's response was to scoff rather visibly.

"I was told by the Commander that you knew how to conduct war, _little prince_. I heard that you at least waged war against your father. Perhaps _this_ is why you lost?"

The older woman was baiting her. She knew that. Mordred drew a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She had been with the Chaldea a while now and had served under the Commander - her master - several times in the field.

She had seen her father again, come to a bit of an understanding even.

She also knew of Oda's history. A warlord that had moved to unify her nation that had been thwarted while she was close to achieving it.

The use of that nickname was one she wasn't too happy about, however.

"I am _no_ prince, Oda. Stop calling me one."

"Your swordsmanship is sloppy." This time Oda wasn't even trying to be polite. Mordred held Clarent a little tighter. "I've fought your father several times, and she can at least make me _try_. You didn't deserve the crown, _little girl_."

She remembered approaching her father in life. She remembers the rejection, and her eventual rebellion. The war had ravaged Britain, costing them much and their people moreso.

She remembers dying at Camlann.

She remembers reaching out for her father, ever unable to reach her.

" _Unworthy_."

Mordred was charging her before she knew what she was doing, her teeth bared and Clarent flashing scarlet as she poured mana into the blade.

Halfway there, she loosed her attack:

"Clarent Blood Arthur!"

The blast of lightning didn't connect, only leaving scorched concrete in a cone before her while Oda dashed off to the side to avoid the attack.

She didn't expect it to, honestly.

"You judge my swordsmanship but you're never close enough to see it! Come here and fight me without any of your firearms, Demon!" Panting, she continued: "You sit pretty behind your weapons all the time, never fighting yourself. Is that how you won your battles? Letting your servants do all the work?"

She knew the warlord wouldn't let the accusation of cowardice slide. She knew of few that would let that happen.

Red eyes narrowed.

"Maybe that's why you were betrayed in the end."

Only then did the older woman draw her sword. Slowly walking towards Mordred, she spoke:

"Unlike your father, it took more than one betrayal to bring me down."

Even through the pain and exhaustion, Mordred managed to strike out with Clarent, Oda's katana parrying the blow and punishing her with a shallow cut to the right upper arm.

"But if a sword fight is what you wish for, I shall be happy to oblige."

What followed was perhaps one of the most painful lessons Mordred ever remembers learning outside of a live battle.

A swing was parried and punished with a cut to left upper arm.

A fist dodged and reciprocated with a pommel to the helmet.

Each time she delivered a strike, Oda would either sidestep or parry the attack, returning her attack with and shallow cut to the gaps in her armor.

There was nothing at all about the encounter that was worthy of the bards of old. It wasn't like a dance, it wasn't like the battle she had with her father atop the hills of Camlann.

She was picked apart and toyed with, and Mordred was having a bit of difficulty reconciling the woman she was fighting to the woman that greeted her when she first arrived.

Oda was rather cheerful and was known by many to spend time causing mischief with Souji Okita or found in the Commander's private quarters. Originally, Mordred actually had trouble taking her seriously and wondered how this servant was one of the most favored in the Chaldea.

Now she knew.

"You fight like a berserker, but lack the finesse behind your strikes to make the style work." She said as she delivered a cut to the back of her left knee which was promptly followed by a kick that knocked the knight down.

Before Mordred could get back on her feet, she felt her vision blur as something hit the back of her head and caused her to fall on her face.

Drawing a sharp breath and wincing at the feeling of her cheek and forehead brush against the cracked concrete, she quickly tried to push herself back up with her arms.

It was then she felt Oda's boot keeping her face down.

"Enough. It's done, girl."

Mordred's eyes darted from one direction to another, trying to see if there was anything she could use, only then realizing that she had dropped Clarent when she saw the sword a few feet from her.

She reached out for the sword, some small part of her not wanting to accept defeat in such a manner.

The sudden pain of a sword being driven through the back of her hand and pinning it to the ground had been all the was given before the boot behind her head was briefly lifted and smashed against her skull.


	2. An Unexpected Expected Call

**An Unexpected Expected Call**

This was not the Throne of Heroes.

Though when he thought about it, he wasn't exactly someone that deserved to be on the Throne the way he was, anyway.

The darkness was almost all-encompassing, with only little lights in the distance spared from the void.

He was reminded of stars when he saw them, now that he thought about it.

As a creature, he was never supposed to be. He knew what he was, after all. Merely a fantasy forged out of a foolish woman's twisted wish. What other purpose was he to serve other than be a toy for her to play with?

And then she had been defeated, struck from the world by angry, faceless multitudes that crushed her with a mix of regret or ruthless rage.

Nothing mattered after that. He served no purpose.

And so he raged. He raged in the world, at the void around, at the story of his life - both the one he lived and the one he supposedly did as a creation of fantasy. And most of all, he raged at himself.

At his curse, at the unfairness of it all.

At the loss of his son, at the stupidity of everything around him.

At his separation from the woman he called master and how he would never get the chance to fulfil the promise he made to her.

Everything he did was for naught.

The creature laughed at himself inside the void.

Wait…

He couldn't laugh, really. He didn't have form or identity in here, either.

Was this where he would die? Or would he just fester here, as an existence that was never meant to be. A spec of insignificance in the vast emptiness of what was probably a mix of the afterlife and the never-was.

"I wouldn't exactly call it that, but you're close."

What?

"I call it the Blind Eternities, though that's more inside joke than most." The voice chuckled, deep and resounding in the Blind Eternities, surrounding him.

What did this… being want with him?

"Well, I'd wanted to ask if you would be interested in doing something with yourself."

It could hear him? When he couldn't even hear himself?

"I can, actually, but that's besides the point." Again, another chuckle. "So, what do you say, Servant Berserker? Would you like another chance at fixing something? Anything, really? I imagine it would be much better than sitting around here considering the pointlessness of it all."

But why? He'd failed, so many times over. He'd failed so spectacularly being summoned as a mad king of darkness wasn't even enough to change anything.

"Everything is pointless in the end, Servant." The voice was smooth as it echoed in the Blind Eternities, surrounding him with confidence despite the contrary meaning behind the words. "We're all too small to really make that much of a difference in the long run - especially when many of us are mortal. But remember that your name was remembered long after you were gone, and in that manner you achieved immortality.

"Who knows, you might have even inspired a child or two somewhere. Would you consider that pointless, Servant? In all of your failings, may or may not have succeeded somewhere down the line.

"Don't you want the chance to do that again?" There was a brief pause. "Besides, if it's pointless to act, it's pointless not to, yes?

"Might as well have some fun, don't you think?"

This thing liked to ask questions.

Though he had to admit that he liked what he was being told, and it certainly wasn't very interesting to be stuck here for all of time.

Why not do something, then?

The creature was right, after all. If it was pointless to do anything, it was equally pointless to sit around and do nothing.

Useless. It was all useless.

"Excellent!" The voice laughed triumphantly, the Blind Eternities actually shaking with his humor. "Then come, reach out from the Blind Eternities and answer the call of your master!"

Light rushed past him, the 'stars' of the Eternities becoming little more than lines as he was pulled from the nothingness.

A door, a shield, a cross was before him and he reached a clawed hand through it.

He felt air, charged with energy and heavy with effort.

He felt the ground beneath his feat and Gae Bolg in his hand.

He felt the widest grin he'd ever worn on his face.

"You have called and I have come! I am servant-."

He stopped cold as his eyes met those of the one right in front of him. His master.

His rather small and slightly stout master that was looking up to him with a rather smug grin on his face. The man was dressed in coat with what appeared to be a white shirt with belts of some kind.

His master looked like a hamster. A giant, upright, suit-wearing hamster.

"Cu Chulainn Alter." The man said, his voice familiar enough that Cu could immediately recognize it as the creature he had been conversing with in the place the man called the Blind Eternities. "We've been expecting you."

He lowered Gae Bolg, all pretense at appearing menacing lost.

With a nod he replied: "Yes."

"Welcome to Chaldea. I hope you'll be able to stave off the boredom of nothingness long enough to find something you want to do with the meaninglessness that is your existence." Then extending a hand towards him. "I am your master, though please consider me your Commander while you are with us."

Cu opened his mouth to say something but was immediately interrupted. It looked like his master - no, the Commander had turned his head to one side to speak with an equally-small girl with lavender hair.

To Cu he spoke: "This is Mashu Kyrielight. She has offered to show you to your quarters. I imagine you must be hungry after just getting your body so once you get your things settled into your new room she will also be escorting you to the mess hall where you can get something to eat before dinner."

It was clearly practiced. This was not the first time the small man had addressed a new arrival of a servant.

"If you wish to sleep afterwards you may, though I ask that you be ready as we have an early day for you tomorrow." Then looking at his watch he added. "At about five-thirty or so should be good." Then reaching for a box that Cu hadn't really seen there, he found the thing shoved into his arms.

While it appeared rather large when the man was holding it, it wasn't so large for Cu that he could still hold it with just one hand.

"That should help ensure that you're ready for tomorrow. I apologize for leaving you so suddenly, but I have business to take care of."

The man hummed and gave him a sagely nod and stepped off of the dais from which Cu was summoned and walked towards the door behind the antique chair he was probably sitting on while performing the summoning.

This was followed by an agreeing hum - though it was more of a growl, really - from a large creature near the walls of the shadowed room.

Heterochromatic eyes, one gold and one red looked at him before closing and sending him a similar nod before moving to follow the Commander out the door.

It was only then that Cu decided to really look around.

The room was dimly lit, with only the metal cross-shaped shield on the floor being lit by lights from above too bright for him to identify. The stone the room was built from seemed to have been made of brown stone of unknown origin.

"Berserker-san." Came the voice from the small woman beside him, a young girl dressed in white that looked extremely familiar to him. Adjusting her glasses she continued "If you would be kind enough to follow me."

Walking out the door, Cu looked around and was surprised to find that the stone room gave way to white steel and concrete.

Talk about contrast.

"I apologize, as it is rather late, I will not be able to give you the tour." The girl said. "I will be present for your first real day with us, however, and will be more than happy to show you around then. In the meantime, this room will be your quarters. You will be sharing an apartment with Servant Hans Christian Andersen."

Before he knew it, he was inside, having told Mashu that he would eat in the morning.

The reaction to his arrival was taken in rather easy stride. Despite how he was summoned, he honestly expected a little… more.

"The Commander is like that, honestly. He likes to appear matter-of-fact about it." A rather deep voice broke Cu from his reverie, the large Berserker shaking his head when he realized that he had been staring out into the darkened blizzard through the window of the hallway.

Turning to look at the source of the voice, he found a rather small boy with blue hair and glasses.

Did everyone that sound big in this place turn out to be really, really small?

"Your room is the one on the right." Bespectacled eyes seeing the brown box in his left hand. "Ah, the Commander wants you up and it already, eh? He's always been a quick one. Best of luck to you, and it looks like I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then." Turning away from him and through the door that probably lead to his room, the boy waved over his shoulder.

"Welcome to the core roster, whoever you are. Go get yourself settled in and you can introduce yourself to me in the morning."

And once again, Cu was left to his own thoughts.

What on earth did the boy mean by that?

Placing Gae Bolg to lean against the wall, he opened the box.

Gold light shone into the room, overpowering the lamps the ceiling was outfitted with.

Cu Chulainn Alter's grin returned full-force.

No, his master certainly didn't waste time.

~TtT~

 **Notes on the master's magic:**

 _"The Commander's magic is certainly something we haven't encountered all that frequently. Whether this has to do with it being an old and untouched line or to do with a mixing of blood remains to be seen. Unlike most magi that tend to use runes, incantations, foci, and other such tools, da Vinci and I have found that his method of casting magecraft comes down to enforcing his will and manifesting it directly, with things such as balls of fire or spikes materializing on demand._

"She theorizes this is a high-level of self delusion or perhaps even a form of entitlement that stems from his bloodline. Considering he has dragon blood mixed in, this isn't all that surprising. What 'is' interesting, however, is the fact that he is able to manifest this while other dragon-bloods are unable to. This may even result in reality marble creation in the future, though neither of us can be sure.

"We'd be able to better understand what is going on if we could study his relatives, but that isn't something we are able to do at the moment."

 ** _\- Dr. Roman_**


	3. The Betrayer and the Betrayed - Part II

**The Betrayer and the Betrayed**  
 **Part II**

The first thing Mordred noticed when she woke was that she was no longer on the broken concrete of the training room.

In fact, she was now in a rather comfortable - if sparse - bed in what was likely the Chaldea infirmary.

She also noticed - from the chill she felt running up her spine - that she was quite naked under the sheets.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend. You have slept for quite some time."

How long had she been out?

Not quite looking to the voice yet, her eyes snapped to her bedside where she expected there to be a clock.

There wasn't one. The nightstand was rather empty save for what was likely a bottle of water and a glass.

She looked to the wall across from her next. Still no luck there.

Her companion chuckled, looking to him, she found a rather short and stout man dressed in the standard Chaldea uniform. Behind him, barely concealed by his frame, was a chair with a black coat slung over it.

The Commander had come to see her.

"Ah!" She did her best to suppress her yelp, but hadn't quite managed to. "C-Commander!" The girl sat up - or at least tried to - before she registered her blanket slipping down.

"I'm sorry, Mordred. I've been waiting to use that line for… Quite some time."

That…

"That was uncalled for, Commander!" She cried with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. She refused to call it a pout, though from the smile the Commander sent her, he certainly did.

"Settle down, Mordred. It's alright." He sat back down as well, leaning back against the chair and placing his arms on the chair's armrests. "Now, in all seriousness, you've only been here overnight. It wasn't anything too drastic, but you did take quite the beating from your little session with Oda."

She Saber looked to her lap, green eyes focusing on the lack of creases on the thick material as one of her hands kept the blanket against her chest. She did not speak, an overwhelming feeling of shame overcoming her.

She was a member of the Round Table, she roused her brothers and lead a rebellion against the father she had supposedly admired.

And unlike many that had fought her father, she had been able to bring him low.

It cost her her life, true, but the King would not survive the injuries she sustained from Camlann.

Despite all that, she was easily trounced by one not the person she loved and hated most in the world. Someone that wasn't the King of Knights or even known for her swordsmanship.

"Do you know why I asked Oda to work with you, Mordred?" Gold eyes were framed by black hair and a face that might have been called handsome. The Commander was normally known for being a man of good humor outside of combat, but ruthlessly efficient during it. As such, it was quite common to see him laughing and conversing with others at Chaldea, but he was stone-faced when he was taking things seriously.

With his lips in a thin line and his his golden eyes more chilling than molten, she knew he was taking this conversation quite seriously.

Mordred did not have an answer besides the fact that her opponent was someone her superior in the art of combat.

And that alone was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Many years ago, a young woman was once called the 'Fool of Owari.'" The Commander was clearly uninterested in her self-deprecation. "She was an heiress to the family headship, but very few could take her seriously and even fewer were interested in seeing her ascend to leadership.

"One day, an enemy lord marched an army of over forty thousand over her lands along with another vassal clan. Rallied under her banner was a force of only two or three thousand." He stood up, and took the coat behind his chair before placing it around Mordred's shoulders.

Walking to the window, he continued while looking to the blizzard outside.

"Despite strong counsel by her advisers to retreat behind fortifications and prepare for a siege, the heiress took her men and - after the enemy army had made camp in a gorge to weather a great storm - charged down into the unprepared men below.

"Surprised and in disarray, the heiress's army routed a force more than nine times their number and slaughtered all of the rival lords' commanders as well as the lord, himself."

"Do you really want to spend your entire lives praying for longevity?" A very familiar voice interrupted as the door to Mordred's current room slid open. She could hear the heavy footfalls of steel-toed boots. "We were born in order to die! Whoever is with me, come to the battlefield tomorrow morning." Red eyes met green ones as black hair fluttered behind a red cloak.

Oda Nobunaga sent the knight a feral grin.

"Whoever is not, just stay wherever you are and watch me win it."

The smile then became suffused with cheer.

"That's what I told those cowards back home the night before Okehazama."

Mordred saw the Commander's eyes dance over the Japanese Lord with readily apparent pride.

He turned back to Mordred before speaking: "And that was when the world first became aware of Oda Nobunaga.

"Mordred, Oda is someone that is accustomed to having to prove herself. She has had to do so many times, and has been betrayed by those she should have trusted time and time again. I had hoped that you could learn from her."

Been betrayed? Sure, she could learn a thing or two about proving herself, but she wasn't betrayed.

She was the knight of treachery, she did the betraying.

The knight felt herself chuckle mirthlessly, her free hand grasping the coat wrapped around her shoulders and pulling it closer to herself.

"You're getting things mixed up, Commander. I'm the betrayer here."

If she had expected agreement, she got none.

"Your mother betrayed you, using you in a plot for revenge against someone you admired. Your father betrayed you, rejecting you because of a wrong you never committed and unwilling to accept the humiliation you represented." He new lord was not pleased with her, clearly.

She turned to him, her mouth open and a denial on her lips, but she was silenced by how the gold of his eyes had turned molten, a clear sign of his temper she had learned to recognize in the few weeks she'd been a part of the Chaldea.

He would not budge on this matter, and there was clearly little she could do to change his mind on the matter.

"Before I became head of my clan," Oda began, bringing Mordred's attention away from the commander. "Many in Owari did not believe I would be a good leader, and my uncle conspired to have me removed from power" She wasn't grinning anymore and was instead replaced with the same look she wore when they had been fighting yesterday. "When I learned of the plot, I marched straight into his castle and cut off his head."

That… was rather drastic. Not even her father had reacted to such news of betrayal.

"Afterwards, I went to the castles of his conspirators, lured them and their armies out, and executed him and his entire family."

Never had Mordred seen such a ruthless dispatching of traitors. It made her look back to her time in Camelot and how everything just started to fall apart after the debacle between Lancelot and Guinevere. How different could things have been had things not collapsed from within had her father taken proper action much earlier, or if her plot to usurp control of the round table had been nipped in the bud when Artoria learned of her heritage.

It made her remember of an overheard conversation regarding Oda's own downfall.

"I-I've heard you speak of Honnoji to others," She suppressed the stammer, her brows furrowed. "You say that it was something that couldn't be helped, like it didn't bother you."

That, she didn't understand, if Oda responded to betrayal so harshly, surely she would have been bothered more by the fact that it was a betrayal that ended her, right?

She remembers seeing her father again when she first arrived.

… It was a difficult encounter, at best.

The Commander walked to Mordred and gave her a pat on the shoulder. He turned to Oda, nodded, and made for the door.

Oda spoke:

"No man can have everything he wants." She took the seat the Commander once occupied, taking her sheathed sword and standing it in front of her while her hands rested atop the pommel, she continued: "Every time I was betrayed I put it behind me. I did not let it taint my view of the world or my plans or my trust to those that served me.

"I was betrayed by my brother-in-law, one vassal, and a retainer that had served under me since the beginning.

"I punished all but one of them harshly, but I did not spend my life looking over my back afraid of traitors nor did the betrayals truly change me. I am better than that."

Mordred did not respond immediately to this, made to think back on her life at what she heard.

What would life have been had she adopted such a philosophy?

She was shaped by those that mistreated her as much as she was by her own choices, after all.

Morgan had used her, manipulated Artoria into siring Mordred one night so that the girl could be used to take revenge on the would-be king.

But when Mordred had been introduced to the Round Table, she had no intention of rebelling. She was in awe of her father, becoming more loyal to the older girl than to any of her mother's scheming. Of course, Morgan had not taken well to this and eventually told her the truth of her conception.

Which lead to the other great betrayal of Mordred's life, when he just and honorable king rejected her and her status as the king's child, Arturia choosing to preserve her own pride rather than acknowledge that she had sired a child with her own sister.

Mordred… never really moved on from that. The conflicting hate of rejection and continued admiration of the what she considered the greatness of her father defined her until her death on the speartip of Rhongomyniad.

She still remembers the last moments of her life, reaching out to the king she so admired even as the darkness took her.

She smirked to herself, her eyes focusing on the blizzard outside. She really never got over that, did she?

"Mordred," The lord pulled her back. "You know that you could never have been king, right?"

Memories of Calmann, of men that looked to her for leadership. People she had failed as much as Artoria had failed all of Camelot.

"No," She shook her head and tried to keep her voice from breaking. She wasn't succeeding very well. "I suppose I couldn't. I could fight, but leading was a whole different matter."

"Ruling is even harder." Oda's smiled, ruefully. "Especially when there are others out for your blood." She got up, walking to the window to look out into the blizzard, herself, her sword leaning against the chair.

"You don't need to let your life weigh on you."

It was a nice thought. Mordred liked the idea.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Oda, but my life has already ended."

"Has it?" Was the response she got, the warlord's hands remaining clasped behind her back, and she still looking out the window. "We're here, alive. We're not exactly human anymore, but that can't be helped. We're bound to work with the Commander, but it certainly isn't boring."

Red eyes shone with the same gleam as her teeth as Oda smiled at her.

"I have certainly enjoyed my time with him, and I feel no less free.

"Did you know what happened to the man responsible for my fall, Princess?"

The knight shook her head.

"He took my place for about thirteen days before one of my retainers came and crushed his army. My former retainer then completed my work, and unified Japan.

"I might have been unable to see my dream fulfilled, but my goal was achieved either way."

The lord turned to her fully, the black-haired woman's body growing to a form of and older woman with more mature features and fuller figure.

Even her voice changed:

"Even in death, I won. Japan is a unified nation now, and my name has lived on for centuries. There is no child in the Land of Rising Sun that has not heard of the Demon, Oda Nobunaga.

"And what legacy would you have on this new lease on life, Mordred? Shall you step out of the shadows that have done nothing but smother you since the time before your death?"

Her fingers gripped the wool of the Commander's coat, feeling the warmth of the fabric in what would have been a cold room.

He believed in her, believed that she could be better, believed that she could be more.

Oda showed her that it was certainly possible to move on from what had happened to her, for if someone that had spent her life dealing with betrayals could stand to unify her country, surely little else could stop her, right?

She was the Knight of Betrayal.

She was the Betrayer, but she, too, had been betrayed.

But she was better than that.

"Yes."


	4. Home - Part I

Heads up, this might end up being a bit cringe-y.

And if you do spot any errors, feel free to give me a heads up, and feedback on the entries would also be much appreciated.

* * *

 **Home**

 **Part I**

In the endless blizzard surrounding Chaldea, it became rather difficult to tell the time every now and then. Sometimes the snow would come down so thick light would be unable to reach the ground below, plunging them into artificial night.

Of course, this wasn't an issue as the organization provided a centralized time system to permit everyone in the complex to keep the same time. The rooms even came with their own alarms that could be activated and deactivated at the person's discretion.

It was quite different from what she had become used to. As a Captain she had been afforded private quarters, though her boys were far from proper and tended to bust in whenever something important came up instead of knocking.

On land, she had attendants follow her around everywhere and never was she given a moment's peace.

Court was no better, for she had to deal with all the nonsense that came with her position and having to live with the fact that everyone around her wanted something from her and more often than not just refused to say what.

For many, many, many years, that is what home was for her.

As such, she certainly liked that the room she was in didn't have it active and that no one would dare bother the residents unless it was a true emergency.

Sitting up, blue eyes glinted in the darkness as she stretched, enjoying the soft ache as strained muscles were woken.

Oh, that was nice. She hadn't felt that sore in a long, long while.

It was then she felt her stomach rumble.

She supposed it was typical to be hungry at this point.

Stifling a laugh, she looked to the dark mass beside her. She was sure her eyes widened.

"I'm hungry. I'll probably head out for a bite."

The mass stirred upon hearing her voice. It swelled, and shrunk, and rocked from one side to the next.

A muffled groan.

"Still tired?" This time she didn't stop the small chuckle, but she did suppress the desire to lean in closer. "Well, you did have a busy night, I suppose." Tapping a finger to her chin, she contemplated. "I think I can make some pancakes. Shall I make you some?"

Another muffled groan, though this one came with some movement and a bit of a struggle.

"It's no trouble. You work on getting unstuck, yourself."

A pleased hum.

One she returned with no small bit of affection. "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you downstairs then." She moved to get up, and used the dim light to navigate the rather expensive room. Slipping into the first bit of clothing she found - a robe, it felt like - she made sure to close it with her belt which she had half-stumbled into with her foot, she walked to the door.

Just as it slid open, white light flooding the room and illuminating what was apparently a rather large mass underneath the sheets, she heard one more muffled mumble.

"I know the way, don't worry." She waved back offhandedly.

Just as the door slid closed, she could vaguely hear the sheets rustle and more groans coming from the pile under the sheets. She smirked while trying to straighten her wild mane of red hair.

It looked like things might be a while more in there.

She contemplated going back in but thought better of it.

They had time now. Much more time.

She had been introduced to the immediate area quite soon upon her arrival. She had to be outfitted with her own quarters, after all. As such, she had a rough idea of the layout of the wing she was in.

Straight down the hall she went, thankful that the wing she was in was carpeted for she had forgotten her slippers back in the room. She walked down the stairs the lead into a landing flanked on each side by a hallway that lead to the living amenities in the wing. Straight ahead was the staircase that would have taken her down to the grand hall which linked this wing to the rest of the apartments.

The kitchen was on the right and was rather small for a base that was supposed to house several hundred staff-members, though made sense when she recalled that it was designed only to cater to the people living in the suites.

She whistled when she began rummaging through the cupboards, though, finding the place surprisingly well-stocked despite the supposedly-dire straights everything was supposed to be in.

Now, to figure out how everything worked.

"If you're planning to cook, I might be able to help you figure out how everything works." Came a voice from behind her. "I highly doubt the Commander would appreciate you burning down his kitchen on your first day here, Captain." There was laughter in the woman's voice, though it was suppressed.

"The help will be much appreciated!" She turned, blue eyes meeting purple.

Medea of Colchis was dressed rather warmly in a white standard-issue robe. She had a cup of tea in one hand.

Ah, Earl Grey from the smell of it. Possibly even from the Commander's stash.

The younger woman put down her cup on the island counter then proceeded to show her how to work the electric stove and where to get things she would need for pancakes, pausing briefly upon noticing the robe the Captain was wearing.

It would be minutes later that the Captain would finally be cooking properly, with the pancakes slowly cooking on the pan with her occasionally checking to make sure they were cooking evenly. Medea sat at the counter slowly taking her tea while another cup had been prepared by the witch for the cook in exchange for some of the cooking food.

She could feel eyes on the back of her head. It wasn't uncommon during life, and it certainly didn't bother her.

She liked this. It was quiet. The Captain certainly had no illusions about her life coming to this as she knew what she had gotten into long before she was summoned.

This was rare, though. It was nothing like court, or the ships, or her fleet.

It felt nice to be domestic for a change.

That was a nice thought.

Softly, she began humming a song, the music filling the quiet kitchen.

"The British Grenadiers? That's an interesting song to know." Medea eventually said when the Captain finished the song once. "Wasn't that song after your time?"

She nodded, still not taking her eyes off the food. One of the pancakes had just been moved from the pan to a plate and she had started on a new one to make the most of the space.

"I learned it while I had been with you lot. It grew on the lads and I and eventually the entire fleet started to sing it, too, some nights."

"The Commander?"

Again, she nodded, though this time accompanying it with a hum of affirmation before returning to humming the song.

It had been quite the adventure, that. Perhaps one of her most enjoyable if not the greatest. It certainly was hard to top singlehandedly stopping the Spanish Armada, but that trip had been a memorable one.

She remembers nights on the deck, showing him how to navigate. She remembers times with the crew and some of the other Servants - Medea had been there, in fact - and sharing food and drink and company.

The music had certainly been something to not forget.

She remembers charging up the sandbar to meet the enemy with their men, the Hind's cannons roaring in the background and peppering the area with iron, adrenaline running high as steel met steel and blood was spilled into the pacific.

"You know, when you arrived I wasn't sure whether I was to welcome you, or to welcome you back."

Now that made the Captain look, making sure to flip one of the more finished ones so that they could cook more evenly.

Medea was still seated, though she was cupping her tea with both hands now and staring into the amber liquid.

"Okeanos seems so far away now, though it's plain to see that you never forgot what happened." And that the Commander certainly hadn't went unsaid but was understood regardless.

'Welcome back,' huh.

The pace was certainly different here. There was no sea, and many times there was no sun. The room didn't rock from side to side and alternatively, there was no court intrigue that consumed the rest of her life on land.

Here, there was only the mission and she was free to live as she liked the rest of the time.

Here, she had the adventure she wanted with somehow more and less responsibility than before. The stakes were higher, but she was far from alone.

Like how she didn't have to bear the brunt of leadership alone - hell, she almost never had to lead at all.

And she was surrounded by more than just subordinates. The people in Chaldea weren't her crew, or her rivals, or people that would see her reign as queen crumble.

They were her peers, in all but name.

When the witch looked up it was to see the Captain smiling at her with the same grin the older woman wore when she walked through the portal and greeted the Commander.

Medea returned it.

"Welcome home, captain Francis Drake."

Passing the woman the stack of pancakes, Elizabeth the First replied:

"It's good to be home, Medea. Now help me set the table because we have people coming down soon and after the first night I've had, I'm sure they're going to be hungry."


End file.
